The Colour of Her Eyes
by Darren's Wings
Summary: “He made you hurt, broke your heart. Then he watched your baby die in his arms, and you never saw the colour of her eyes.” LilyxLorcan.


**This was written for the Reviewers' Lounge Birthday project, so it will be published there too. **

Lorcan opened his eyes, and as it dawned on him what day it was, what day yesterday was, he began to cry into his soft, warm blankets, his pillow, which smelled dreadfully of dust and mildew. "My birthday," he choked through the muffling curtain of cold tears. "Almost hers." His shoulders shaking, sniffing, he wept for an hour, trying not to think, not to remember. He couldn't. It wasn't...right for this to happen, somehow, it was not fate's wish.

He was thankful, though, that although Lysander shared his birthday with Lorcan, he would not feel this same crushing sorrow, the kind of sadness that cuts into you, tearing your heart to bloody, stinging shreds, yet still indescribable. Not until nightfall...

One of the other boys in his dormitory woke, and Lorcan flushed awkwardly that someone should see him crying. He dressed himself and tried to ignore the strange but sympathetic looks the seventh year gave him. He was Hugo Weasley. Rose's brother. Lily's best friend.

As Lorcan passed his twin, he let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly. His brother was still asleep. _Thank goodness_. Less questions would be asked. For that, Lorcan would always be glad...

Lorcan slipped out of the dormitory and blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep his eyes from growing too wet. His heart pounded, and his head hurt because of it. He moaned and put a hand to his forehead. Slowly, he staggered up the shifting staircases outside the portrait hole, his feet as heavy as lead, and continued to climb, up to the astronomy tower. Students stared at him as he hurried by, but none of them stopped him.

He emerged onto the flat, railed roof, where telescopes often lined the outer rim; however, they weren't here now. As warm as it was at the end of term, Lorcan shivered as the insistent wind pushed him flat against the roof. The hard, cold wind stole his breath from his lungs, and he gasped for air. Then the howling air quieted a moment, and he gulped it in hungrily. The cool freshness filled his lungs all the way up, and it was good to taste that sweet purity of the air one last time.

Lorcan walked slowly, but not reluctantly, across the rooftop to the rail; it was made of mortared gray stone, so short someone could easily step over it and plummet to the depths below. Far beneath him, he could make out the dark outline of the Forbidden Forest, the towering, spiky, dark green branches of the Womping Willow, the rolling green blanket of soft grass, and even the squat, brown form of Hagrid's old hut. He could almost smell Hagrid's new flowers; all the students avoided if possible the flowerbed, and when they did have to go within a fifty-foot radius, they covered their mouths, gagging. One of two students had already been transferred to the Hospital Wing for a short period, after suddenly passing out.

Rain began to lazily drift down from the sky, falling in drawling, fat drops. It shaped and pummeled the surface of the dark lake, barely visible because of the reflection of the forest around it. Dark storm clouds hung in the deep, dark blue sky, as if an artist had taken his brush and cast long, puffy strokes throughout the blue canvas of the sky. Lorcan sighed and sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. A sharp, painful longing yanked at his heart. He would leave this all behind. He'd never see it again.

Ever.

But it was the best thing. He'd made his decision, and there was no going back.

Taking a deep breath, letting the cold, drizzling rain wash the tears down his face, his chin, down his neck, Lorcan Scamander prayed for the first time in his life. It wasn't for him, either; it was for a tiny child, born last night, dead last night, the eve of Lorcan's own birthday.

"I know I wasn't particularly religious. But, please, gather her spirit into your arms, Lord," he whispered, but his voice was lost upon the screeching wind. "Tell her I love her with all my heart. Thank you."

Then he climbed upon the railing, careful to find his balance. The wind playfully tugged at his golden hair. He inhaled deeply. It was so beautiful...and she hadn't made it even through the night. If only she had, he could have shown her all the simple things of the world, the things we take for granted, and it would have beautiful.

"Is this what you want?"

Whoever's voice it belonged to had to yell to be heard, and even then Lorcan could hardly make out the words. Sweet perfume blew straight into his face.

He turned. "Lily?"

Her blood-red hair had been darkened and plastered to her body by the rain. Her clothes hugged her tightly, and Lorcan could see that she'd nearly recovered her old figure since the baby was born. Quick, he thought, for a woman right after childbirth. Still, though, her waist had thickened. She trembled with cold as the rain poured down. Her eyes looked too large with dark circles underneath them, and her hair was wet and flat.

"I know what you're thinking," she said after he stepped down off the rail. "I thought the same. I came up here because...I don't know why...but I wasn't going to do this," she added, crossing her arms firmly against the weather. "It's not worth it. I...I didn't think...you would do it. There's still more to live for. You can't let go."

At the sight of her face, devoid of all colour, the skin sagging, dark circles under her eyes, with sorrow etched in every line in the same clarity the rain put to her physique, Lorcan couldn't help it. The tears trickled down his face again, but he swallowed them, nearly choking, and advanced toward her. She didn't move away, as he had expected.

"I can't do this. I can't live like this," he breathed in her ear; she could feel his warm breath upon her cheek, and she drew closer without realising it. "I...I loved her. I still love her. Even though I never knew her." He shook his head, sniffed, and wiped his face again. The air hurt in his lungs, like he was drinking fire.

Lily rounded on him, waving her arms at him. Her eyes flared. "Then why did you stop talking to me?!" she demanded, her chest rising and falling heavily, a tremour in her voice. "Why didn't you care?"

Lorcan's voice lowered, and she had to lean closer to hear him. "I _did_ care." His jaw clenched.

"Then what was wrong with you?" She shook her head incredulously, rolling her eyes.

"You rejected me." It was a complete statement. He avoided her eyes.

"How?" She blinked several times, quite quickly.

It was Lorcan's turn to stare at her in incredulity. "When you told me about the baby, I offered to marry you. I wanted you! I _love_ you, Lily," he added as she spun on her heel away from him, almost haughtily.

"Well, I don't love you. Not now." The last two words floated to him on the traitourous breeze, and combined with its noise and the fact she faced the opposite direction, he strained to hear them.

Lorcan acted on impulse and walked toward her briskly. "I still love you. Like I love her," he murmured, his heartbeat calmed, the air fresh again.

"She's dead," Lily answered flatly; he could imagine her blinking her eyes determinedly, glaring, as if she could order the tears not to come.

Lorcan nodded, but he didn't mind if she never saw it. He was very near her now; he could smell her perfume, the same he'd smelled on his pillow night after night. Once, more than nine months before. But it seemed like a lifetime ago...

"Get away!" She spat the words over her shoulder as if they were something that tasted foul.

Lorcan did not heed her, and the next thing he knew, he had swept her into his arms. Lily drew closer, almost convulsively, but then stiffened. Her body was warm and soft next to his. He ran his fingers through her hair, tangled, wet, and cold, but soft.

"Lily," he said, his lips on her warm ear. "I'm sorry. Really."

"Sorry's not enough, damn it!" she snarled, shoved him away.

He sighed. "I know. Sorry was never enough for you."

She gave him an odd look and crossed her arms, but otherwise did not respond.

The wind punctuated the silence between them. The rain began to drive down in terrifying torrents. The roof grew slippery, and Lorcan and Lily squinted against the determined water droplets. It was icy cold, almost as cold as Lorcan's heart. The pain was gone, replaced by a biting numbness, but it wasn't from the rain...

"I know it's not enough," he repeated, "But it's something. And, maybe, it was enough once."

With that, he cupped her cheek with one hand and drew her nearer. He sought her lips, kissed her eagerly, followed her when she drew back. She tasted like a combination of rain and tears and blood, along with something sweet but spicy, like peppermint. Lightning flashed in the distance. At first, she struggled in his grasp, but soon she returned his eagerness, his impetus, if hesitantly. She ran a hand over his chest, and he tightened around her waist protectively.

Finally forced to breathe again, he broke away. Then he ran across the roof, sliding but picking himself up afterward, and vaulted over the rail.

"_Lorcan! NO_!" Lily screamed with a sob, rushing after him. She slipped and cut her shins, but it didn't stop her; the pain seemed to add to her mad flight. Her heart was so loud she was sure everyone for miles to come could hear it. Cheeks flushed, she panted, her eyes deepening in colour. The icy, rain-filled wind smothered her, and it grew worse as she leaned over the edge. Everywhere she looked, the rain hurtling toward the earth hid all else from view. She couldn't find him. He was gone. "Lorcan?" she screamed frantically, "Lorcan?!" Her hair flew in her face.

For maybe a few minutes, or maybe days, Lily stared over the tower's edge, into the rain-swept darkness of her heart.

After a while, she turned slowly away."You don't love him, remember?" Lily told herself, hiding her tear-streaked face in her robes. Her mind lingered on that last kiss, the way his strong arms had pressed her close to his body, the scent of sweat and tears all at once in his body, the way her blood had burned with passion. "He made you hurt, broke your heart. Then he watched your baby die in his arms, and you never saw the colour of her eyes. Just the colour of her hair. Gold...like his."

Lily turned away, giving one last look at the rail before walking to the stairs with measured steps. Her foot echoed on the metal step as she disappeared into the dark stairway. As if laughing at her, the wind howled and moaned tauntingly.

But, even through the weeping rainclouds, even through the sneering wind, you could hear someone sobbing brokenly...

**Thanks for reading! Please review. And please--Constructive criticism! Thank you :)**

**-Wings-**


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